Author's Note: Meet Laila Wood. I hope you like her, because she decided to take over half of this story, lol. (And I promise her existence here has a point. ;) )


Chapter 2

Laila Wood walked past this neighborhood every day.

Or—well—didn't walk past it.

It was just a silly kid's superstition, really. Across the street she could see the sign that used to read Forest Lane—but years ago, someone had painted over it to read Falling Star Lane. No one had ever changed it.

No one had ever dared.

For a moment, she hesitated, looking a little wistfully past the sign and down the dusky road it marked. Rob had dared her to walk down Falling Star Lane once—and she had refused, saying sharply that she didn't accept dares from reckless boys. She had been a prim little thing, but for some reason he had still liked her.

She smiled, fingering the diamond ring on her finger.

She turned away, staring at the sidewalk in front of her. Just a week ago, he had left for the war. Kissed her goodbye. Promised to write. It had been strange walking past this place since then—the whole area was steeped in memories of him.

She kept walking, taking the longer route as usual. No one walked through Falling Star Lane, even if it was quicker—no one had walked through Falling Star Lane in years.

The neighborhood kids all said that a star had fallen there years ago—a star that would swallow you whole if you got near it. There were rumors of people disappearing, never to be found again.

No one dared.

Unless they were dared.

She had never accepted that dare of Rob's. She slowed a little, staring for a long moment at the fallen-down houses that led away from the sign. Of course there couldn't really be a star there—that was impossible.

But as Rob would have said, it was the impossible things that were the most fun to tell stories about.

She was never quite sure what made her do it. Perhaps her thoughts of Rob, perhaps it was the fact that it was getting late and mama would be worried about her—and, well, there was a quicker way to get home. Right beside her. Somehow, she found herself turning, crossing the street, walking toward the sign.

She was walking down Falling Star Lane.

It was really quite silly of her, being so scared of the place. It was just an old neighborhood—a bit run-down, certainly, but that was probably just because of all the rumors surrounding it. No one wanted to live there. Rob would be so proud of her when she told him she had finally accepted that dare of his. And when he came back, they would walk down Falling Star Lane together.

And come up with some wonderful stories along the way.

She was already writing the letter in her head as she made her way down the twilit road. Dearest—I walked down Falling Star Lane today. Oh, how he would grin! And it was perfectly normal—how terribly anticlimactic. She took a moment to look around her, taking in every detail of the place so she could describe it to him. The houses lay in various stages of disarray, shadows clinging to them like shrouds. She wondered if anyone actually lived here.

Had anyone ever lived here? Or were the houses some sort of cover, an attempt to make it look normal?

She shivered.

Shaking herself, she managed a little grin. How terribly silly she was being—but heaven knows, she was known for being a little silly. For a moment she just stood there, drawing in a deep breath of the cool night air. She closed her eyes for a moment—

And then the world took off in a dizzy spin.

Her eyes popped open and she tried to draw a breath, but couldn't. It felt as if the ground had fallen out from under her and she was tumbling through nothing—and yet, somehow, she could still see the neighborhood around her, flickering and flashing like a broken lightbulb. It was strange, it made her dizzy, and somehow she felt as if, if she looked too long, she would go mad.

She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to find something to hold onto.

And then everything was still.

For a moment she just sat there, the realization that she had fallen to the pavement slowly dawning on her. The sun was warm on her face, and—

Wait.

She rubbed her eyes and looked around. She still sat in the middle of the run-down neighborhood, the houses bright in the afternoon—sunlight?

For a moment she just sat there, her heart pounding in her ears. Had she passed out? Had she lain here all night? She stood slowly, shakily, half-expecting a wave of dizziness. No—she was fine, she could stand well enough. Smoothing her skirt, she looked around.

Okay.

So she had passed out, somehow. And lay there all night. And no one had found her. That was—odd. But it was the only explanation she could come up with.

Well—the only explanation that made any logical sense.

She took a few hesitant steps forward. She needed to get out of this place. Mama would be worried sick about her. She walked faster, keeping her eye on the Falling Star Lane sign in front of her, with its ragged letters, scrawled in white paint. She stepped onto the corner and skidded to a stop, blinking.

The town was—

No, the town was normal.

For a moment, she thought she had gotten a glimpse of something—off. Or something. But no, everything was normal. The houses were all there. And why wouldn't they be?

She took a deep breath and started towards home. If she had really been gone all night, she was in for a scolding. And she would have to tell mama that she had walked down Falling Star Lane for no reason other than that she could.

She sighed. It had really been terribly stupid of her. Even adults knew there was something strange about that place.

She passed Mrs. Plunket's place and raised her hand to wave to the old woman who was always sitting on the porch with a ready greeting, but a strange figure on the lawn made her skid to a stop, wide-eyed. A man lay stretched out in the grass, looking as if he had fallen there, his eyes closed and his face pale. He wore a dark brown pinstripe suit and his hair stood out in all directions. Catching her breath, she rushed forward, dropping to her knees beside him.

"Sir—sir, are you alright?" She shook him gently by the shoulders. "Sir—"

He sat up with a gasp, nearly knocking her backwards. "Where am I?" he blurted, and she noticed that he spoke with a British accent. "What year is it?"